


A built in remedy

by 17kylie_readsalot17



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Absolute domesticity, Adam's Birthday, Gardening, Lower Tadfield (Good Omens), M/M, and nothing else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17kylie_readsalot17/pseuds/17kylie_readsalot17
Summary: Aziraphale gasped and Crowley and Anathema looked towards him to see what he had against Wensleydale but he simply held up a clump of dirt. “Bermuda grass.”Crowley groaned and Anathema, by now feeling betrayed by her family education in all things occult but not in the horticulture scope whatsoever, sighed and asked, “What’s Bermuda grass?”“Worse than crabgrass,” Crowley said.Aziraphale and Crowley visit Tadfield for Adam's birthday, but get a little side tracked by messy gardens and cottages with forsale signs out front.





	A built in remedy

It was a suspiciously sunny summer day in Lower Tadfield, and an angel and a demon were just pulling up out front of a white, corner house, with Killer Queen blaring from the car stereo.

While the time they spent in Tadfield wasn’t extensive, they’d learned early on that summer days were always suspiciously sunny in Lower Tadfield—except for the notable occasion when a hurricane and red skies hit on the same day, but that only happened once. It had been nearly a year since the first and only Tadfield-centered hurricane, and an angel and a demon had returned for a birthday celebration.

Unfortunately, the state of the front yard of Jasmine Cottage had them freeze at the gate.

Anathema had come out to greet them, Newt a few steps behind her, when she saw the look on Crowley’s face. She looked up over her shoulder to her door, then back again. “We took down the horseshoe if that’s what you’re worried about?” She said, fanning herself slightly, still wearing a heavy dress in the middle of a heatwave.

“No, no dear, that doesn’t affect us. Ah, Anathema… How long has the lawn looked like this?” Aziraphale asked, patting Crowley’s arm until he cleared his throat and finally looked away from the weeds crawling up from the garden and towards the young couple greeting them.

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking down. The grass was perfectly green, she was proud to say. Just as nice as R. P. Tyler’s lawn—_that_ was why he always glared at it as he walked by, of that much she was sure.

“Well, I’ve never seen so much crabgrass in one place. Especially not in England.”

“This isn’t ordinary England, angel. It’s Tadfield. Occult changes to the weather mean occult changes to the weeds.” Crowley said, shifting his luggage in his hands before straightening his back and shaking his head just enough to get the hair out of his face. Newt crossed the lawn and passed the pair to grab the rest of the bags from the trunk of the Bentley.

“Crabgrass?” Anathema stepped aside to let Newt pass inside, followed by Aziraphale and Crowley.

“She’s from California,” Newt said, finally speaking up as he set their bags down inside. He stood back up and adjusted his glasses on his nose, smiling sidewardly at Anathema. “They don’t have grass there.”

“Yes, we do,” she said, shutting the door a little louder than necessary. “I personally did not have grass, but that doesn’t mean no one in California has grass.” Smoothing out her skirt, she held out her hand and gestured down the hallway. “The guest bedroom is this way.”

“It would be so very rude,” Aziraphale said quietly, shaking his head as he unpacked his clothes into the empty dresser. “Arriving at someone’s house and immediately jumping in to tend to their yard.”

“Not rude if _they_ haven’t been tending to it,” Crowley said, shoving his still full suitcase beneath the bed. “Saving them the trouble. Don’t you think?”

“You don’t like me taking care of your plants—”

“Because you do it wrong!”

Aziraphale gave him a meaningful look.

“Alright, sure. _If_ she likes it done in a particular way, _which_ I extremely doubt, given the state of it, we won’t touch it. But there’s at least no harm in asking.” Crowley sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly before settling his elbow on his knee and resting his chin on his hand. “You’ve got to ask though.”

“Why me?” Aziraphale shook out one of his spare jackets and laid it out on top of the dresser to keep it from wrinkling.

“Who do you think she’d believe if we told her we wanted to do it just out of the kindness of our own—well, ehhh.” He waved a hand. “Essences.”

“Ooh,” Aziraphale began, in the low voice of gentle mockery. “I don’t know, Crowley. You’ve shown yourself to be a bit of a softy around her.” He glanced over his shoulder to sneak a look at Crowley’s reaction as he put away his last shirt, but Crowley wasn’t at his place on the bed anymore. Instead, Aziraphale heard his voice down the hallway in the kitchen.

When he shoved his suitcase under the bed, he hurried out after him and saw Anathema taken somewhat off guard and trying to load her clothes into the washer. “I suppose? If you really want to?” she said. “But the kids will be here soon. I called Dierdre and she said she’d tell Adam to come visit me when he got back from the woods.”

“Doubt he’ll be back before his curfew. He might not make it over here until tomorrow.” Crowley said, having often encouraged Adam that a curfew was optional. Though they all knew fairly well that the Them had been looking forward to Aziraphale and Crowley’s visit, and that they wouldn’t be late.

“We won’t spend too long out there, just enough to clean up a bit,” said Aziraphale.

Anathema gave them a look, but given that she was more concerned about the state of her laundry than how her guests chose to pass their time, they ended up outside less than an hour after their arrival to the cottage.

Aziraphale was kneeling in the lawn, separating the real grass from the crabgrass, and uprooting the weed as best he could. Crowley sat on top of a portable tool cart (which Aziraphale had been all too happy to inform him was called a garden hopper) he’d found in the untouched shed on the corner of the Jasmine Cottage property, untangling the poor tomato plants from the dandelions coming up all around.

Anathema brought out lemonade after they’d been working for no more than half an hour. Aziraphale already had half an empty flower pot full of weeds and Crowley had managed to rescue one row of tomatoes, but they were nowhere near finished.

“Thank you, guys—but really you don’t have to do this,” she said, handing Crowley a glass.

“Someone has to. Neither of you spend any time out here?” Crowley asked, taking a sip, then grimacing and dumped it out in the soil behind him.

“Newt has allergies,” Anathema said, handing Aziraphale his glass. “And back home, we had an herb garden where we grew things for spells and divination, but Newt was right, no grass.”

“Really? Who mows?” Aziraphale also grimaced at the taste of lemonade but just set it down beside him rather than pouring it out.

Anathema watched Aziraphale set it away and shook her head. “We pay the Them to do it. They rotate.”

“Who was it this week, looks awful,” was Crowley’s response.

“Wensleydale.”

Aziraphale gasped and Crowley and Anathema looked towards him to see what he had against Wensleydale but he simply held up a clump of dirt. “Bermuda grass.”

Crowley groaned and Anathema, by now feeling betrayed by her family education in all things occult but not in the horticulture scope whatsoever, sighed and asked, “What’s Bermuda grass?”

“Worse than crabgrass,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale stood and walked over to Crowley, shooing him up off of the garden hoper so he could open it up and grab a metal tool with forked prongs on the end from inside. “Harder to get rid of, the roots go way down.”

“Annuals versus perennials.”

“Indeed.”

Anathema huffed, swiping the empty lemonade cup from Crowley. “Why don’t you just miracle them away? Why go to all this trouble?”

Aziraphale blushed and Crowley opened his mouth then closed it again, sitting back down on the hopper. Anathema was about to throw her hands up in frustration when Aziraphale responded, “Well. There’s not really any room in Soho for a garden.” Twiddling with his new tool, he continued, “And Crowley is very particular with his own plants, won’t let me near them! I haven’t really had a chance to get my hands dirty in a while.”

“Plants need attention,” Crowley tacked on. “Not magic.”

“So this… doesn’t have to do with my yard in particular being bad. Just that you guys like gardening?”

“Your yard is particularly bad,” said Crowley. Aziraphale kicked him.

“We just like gardening,” Aziraphale assured her. Then added. “But yes, your yard isn’t great.”

Anathema rolled her eyes and walked back inside, shutting the door behind her. Crowley snickered and Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as well.

“What are you two laughing about?” came a voice as Adam parked his bike against the fence and the garden gate swung open, Dog running onto the property with all the enthusiasm a small dog should have.

“Adam!” Aziraphale called, standing up from the grass, taking off his gloves, wiping off his hands, and opening his arms for a hug.

Adam came up to him and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, leaning in for a quick moment, before peering around him to Crowley. “Your hair is longer.”

Adam had, when he rejected his role as the antichrist, remembered a lot of things, including the circumstances of his birth and his placement with the Young family. It was through that that he recognized Crowley’s current style as the same style he’d had 12 years ago. His hair was once again down to his shoulders, no part just pushed back casually. He wore standard sunglasses rather than the Valentino’s with the silver blinders, and—well, the black clothes had never really changed, but were a little more reminiscent of the early 2000s.

“New era, new style,” said Crowley, as though it wasn’t an old style. As though he had revisited an old style before and this wasn’t entirely out of character for him (he had never returned to the old, and Aziraphale had to wonder if he was trying to revisit an old era as well. Perhaps one before all the stress that the Apocalypse had brought them). He stood up as well and greeted Adam with a tousle to the hair rather than a hug. “Yours is too. Shaggier.”

“Mum’s been trying to get me to cut it. She said when it’s not my birthday week I won’t have a choice.”

“Oh, birthday _week_ now, is it?”

Adam smiled as Crowley jostled his shoulder.

“Where are Pepper, Wensley, and Brian?” asked Aziraphale.

“Cleaning up. Sword fights get dirty.”

“You didn’t worry about getting cleaned up for us though,” Crowley said.

“Course not. It’s my birthday week.”

“That means no showers?” Aziraphale asked, scandalized. He only got another smile from Adam, then Newt stepped outside.

“Thought I heard him! Hi Adam.” He leaned back inside to shout, “Anathema, he’s here,” then back out again. “Come inside, dinner is almost ready.”

Dog was the first to respond, his yapping growing louder until the angel, demon, and antichrist finally moved out of the garden and towards the house.

Newt patted Adam on the back as he came inside, and shut the door once everyone was back inside.

“Happy early birthday, Adam,” Anathema said as she stepped out of the kitchen. She ushered them into the living room, but set a towel down on the couch before she let Adam sit down, not wanting to spend the evening trying to wash dirt off the cushions.

Settling in, they let Adam tell them about the adventures they’d had this week, which included a lot of bike riding and some mildly dangerous stunts, as they waited for the rest of the Them. Though it wasn’t long before there was laughter outside and the sound of two bikes being dropped to the curb and one being properly placed upwards with the kickstand. The door flew open and the Them tumbled inside—hair still wet and clothes clean. Adam jumped up from the couch, smiling, and the Them rushed into the living room to greet everyone.

They’d seen Crowley and Aziraphale in person once since Armageddon when they snuck away from their class fieldtrip in London to visit Aziraphale’s bookshop last fall; and the circumstances of that visit were a much more pleasant way to get to know one another than what had occurred at the airbase. Rather than guns being pointed and Heaven and Hell to pay, Aziraphale had served shortcake while Crowley encouraged elbows and shoes on the table.

After that, they seemed to forget the whole unpleasantness of their first encounter. Soon Aziraphale and Crowley were getting letters and photocopies of report cards and family Christmas cards—and on one special occasion, a leaf that was green on one side and yellow on the other. Aziraphale and Crowley repaid the favor with birthday cards and gifts and help on history assignments to keep those report cards coming.

Suffice to say, they were thrilled to see the new arrivals.

Though the greetings were quick, as Anathema redirected to the kitchen and made room for everyone at the table. It was a table meant for at the most four people, so two to each side was a tight squeeze, but no one seemed to mind.

“I got a hundred on my history project, did you see?” Wensley asked, reaching across the table to grab the salt, brushing his sleeve through Pepper’s food and nearly knocking over her water.

“We got the report cards just last week, very impressive!” Aziraphale said.

Crowley couldn’t outright state he was proud of the Them studying hard and getting perfect grades, but his smile made it obvious enough what he thought.

“And the leaf?” Brian asked.

“Best leaf I’ve ever seen,” Crowley said. “We pressed it and bought a frame. Going up in the bookshop.”

“Well, we’ve got something new to show you too,” Brian began, but Pepper and Adam both kicked him under the table at the same time. At least Pepper tried to kick him, she ended up hitting Newt’s shin instead.

“Ow!”

“Sorry.”

“What new have you got for us, Brian?” Crowley asked.

“He can’t—” Adam began, but cut himself off. “We’re not supposed to tell you yet.”

“I’ve already finished my summer reading,” Wensleydale jumped back in.

“Oh, no you haven’t,” Pepper said, pushing his arm away as he tried to reach over her plate again. “No one’s started their summer reading yet, we’ve still got a month left before school starts again.”

“I have, Pepper!”

“Have not.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale from the side, tilting his head just so to show the yellow of his eyes from behind his glasses, a smile splitting his face.

As the Them cleared the table and stacked all the dirty plates in the sink and Aziraphale loaded the rest of the food into Tupperware, Crowley leaned against the far counter with Newt and Anathema. There wasn’t enough room for them all in the kitchen, so they let the others tidy the counters, and they would wash the dishes later.

“Found jobs yet, either of you?” Crowley asked, distracting Newt and Anathema from their quiet chatter. “I assume the job market in Tadfield is much less computer oriented than London, you’ve probably had better luck then, Newton?”

“Newt’s an assistant teacher now at the elementary school. He has Pepper’s sister in his class this year,” Anathema answered.

Crowley leaned forwards to get a better look at Newt who stood on Anathema’s other side. “That so?”

“Sure,” Newt said, fiddling with his glasses. “It’s fun. I haven’t spent a lot of time around kids, so it’s new. But teaching math on paper while someone else runs the projector seems to work. No explosions yet.”

“You’d probably be in quite a lot of trouble if you set anything on fire in a school,” Crowley said with a sideways grin and Newt laughed back somewhat anxiously. “And you, Anathema?”

“She’s going back to school,” Newt answered. “Nursing school.”

“Really?”

Anathema shrugged. “I already know plenty about herbal remedies and first aid. I like it plenty. It was never something I gave thought before now.”

“The whole professional descendant thing didn’t really leave a lot of room to explore non-prophetic interests,” Newt finished. “She’s very good at it though. Might just turn into healer witch, yet.”

Anathema looked at him, her messy hair tumbling over her shoulder, and Crowley couldn’t see her face, but the redness creeping up Newt’s neck and Aziraphale looking up suddenly from the Tupperware must’ve meant the loving atmosphere in Lower Tadfield had just grown a bit thicker.

Crowley couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even if it was partially from fondness for the young couple. He pushed off the counter and walked into the kitchen. Tapping Aziraphale’s shoulder, he leaned in to whisper, “May I cut in?”

Aziraphale smiled at him and stepped back to let Crowley finish putting the food away.

When the kitchen was clean and all the dishes put away, Aziraphale and Crowley walked the Them to the gate. Crowley’s attention was drawn back to the garden, then to the sun, not yet below the horizon. “Another hour in the garden tonight, angel?” he asked Aziraphale. Adam stopped and turned around.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I help?” Adam asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Crowley echoed, rather than mimicked Aziraphale’s sentiment.

“Your parents won’t mind if you’re back late?” Aziraphale asked.

“Course not.” Crowley held his arms up in a shrug. “It’s his birthday week.”

Adam smiled then turned back to the Them. “Pepper, do you want to take Dog tonight? He’ll be hungry by now, and I’ll stay awhile longer.”

“Sure,” Pepper said with a shrug, then whistled. Dog, the smart little thing he was, bounded through the gate after Pepper, turning around to bark a few times by way of saying goodnight to Adam.

The Them took off down the street and Aziraphale set his hand on Adam’s back. “Let’s get you some gloves.”

He ended up working beside Crowley, sat down right in the dirt with his hands in the soil. Aziraphale had followed a root of Bermuda grass across the lawn, and ended up a ways away from Crowley and Adam, but he could still hear Crowley’s scheming cackle and see the smile on Adam’s face. He set down his gardening tools for a moment to watch until Crowley looked up and caught him.

When the sun was nearly set, Aziraphale stood up and declared an end to garden hour.

“Promise me you’ll shower tonight, Adam.”

“It’s—”

“No excuses! You’re filthy!”

“He’ll call your mother on you,” Crowley said.

Adam slouched forwards with a sigh that was a very teenager-esque sigh, but agreed nonetheless. He rushed out the gate to his bike, and set off down the street to race the sunset home. As he tore around the corner, Aziraphale took off his gloves and grabbed Crowley’s from his back pocket to put them away. When he turned back, Aziraphale caught Crowley watching the sunset, the pink hues reflected in his sunglasses. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said.

“What?” Crowley turned to him and Aziraphale grabbed his sunglasses on each side and pulled them off carefully before tucking an arm into the collar of Crowley’s shirt so he wouldn’t lose track of them. Crowley cleared his throat, “What?” he asked again.

“Nothing. Let’s head inside.”

Even mid-morning beneath the shadow of the trees in the woods, the air was hot and dry. Aziraphale walked with his hands clasped behind his back, looking up through the canopy at the different leaves overhead, and Crowley kicked up leaves with his snakeskin shoes, hands shoved partially in his pocket. He was the very same as he had been a day short of twelve years ago—telling Aziraphale the news of the antichrist, trying his best to persuade Aziraphale to join him while an officer capped the Bentley’s tire just outside of Saint James’ park.

If Aziraphale wanted to, he could very well imagine it was the day after the end had begun and they were on their way to lunch at the Ritz. However, as they were currently wandering in the Them’s wood in the pretty morning light, the Ritz didn’t seem nearly as tempting as usual, and didn’t warrant imagining at the moment.

“Anathema snores!” Crowley shouted once they were out of view of Jasmine cottage.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale breathed, chuckling slightly.

“I expected Newt to be a snorer, even prepared myself to not say anything about it—but Anathema? Could hear her through the _wall_, angel.”

“I know, quite surprising. But it’s better than sleep apnea, I suppose.”

“For her maybe. Not for Pulsifer,” Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale snickered, but the both stopped to look ahead when they heard Pepper from—well, they couldn’t really tell where. It echoed all around them and they looked at each other for a moment before continuing on until they found the quarry where the Them, excluding the soon to be birthday boy, were unloading bounty from a Radio Flyer wagon.

“Brian, you should have to do it. Afterall, it is my wagon, and Wensley found it. You have to play your part.”

“Why can’t we all just do it together?” Brian complained, looking at the large steel drum sitting on its side in the wagon. It looked like it had gone to Hell in a handbasket, dents and chips covered more area than not. But it still looked functional enough for a group of preteens who couldn’t play steel drums anyways.

“Actually, it’s not that heavy, and two people carrying it would be harder than one, since someone would have to walk backwards.”

“Wensley has a point,” Crowley called down from the top of the quarry.

The Them looked up and saw them.

“Hello!” Brian and Pepper called, while Wensley just raised his chin a bit, proud to receive Crowley’s approval.

“Want us to do it for you?” Aziraphale asked.

Brian responded yes at the same time Pepper said no. They glared at each other for a moment before Pepper spoke, “It’s Adam’s birthday present. Brian has to contribute.”

“Well, you heard the boss,” Crowley said, stepped onto the steep incline down into the quarry. He stumbled a bit, but anyone who hadn’t been watching Crowley walk for six millennia could assume that was just how he sauntered vaguely downhill. Aziraphale followed him, more cautious with his steps, and came down to stand beside Crowley to watch Brian haul the drum from the wagon and waddle over to what appeared to be a junk pile, but was much more likely a throne.

“You could help us find a drumstick, if you wanted,” Pepper said.

“A real drumstick?” Crowley asked, already raising his hand preparing to snap and summon one from a famous artist’s collection, but the Them had begun rustling through the leaves in search of a stick vaguely resembling a drumstick, so Crowley and Aziraphale did the same. It was Wensleydale—who apparently had a knack for finding things—who found one perfect for making a racket, and not a second too soon. Dog stuck his nose up in the air, then his ears perked and he took off, barking, in the direction of Adam’s house.

“He’s on his way,” Pepper grinned. “Come on, let’s hide till he comes.”

“We’ll let you guys surprise him, see you tonight,” Aziraphale said and the Them shouted their goodbyes and pulled Crowley’s arm so they could sneak away without being a distraction to the soon to be twelve-year-old and the Them’s present.

As they snuck away through the golden woods, they heard a shout of ‘surprise!’ from behind them, and Aziraphale raised his shoulders, smile growing, as an amplified flash of love coursed through the air. He shivered in a way that said he wasn’t uncomfortable, but just getting used to something new. And those flashes of love, like from Anathema and Newt last night and Adam whenever he felt at home, those were something he could easily find himself getting used to. He knew Crowley didn’t feel it, but he really wished he could. It made Tadfield all the more charming.

A for-sale sign was the first thing Aziraphale noticed when he stumbled out of the woods. The grass on the lot was far overgrown, and it had shutters that were nearly purple, but had been worn at by the weather over the years. Crowley stepped out after him, brushing leaves from his pants and cursing when he saw the cuff had been ripped.

Aziraphale waved his hand and the rip repaired itself.

Crowley paused for a moment, then smiled. “Thanks.”

“You came up with open houses, didn’t you?”

Crowley looked up at the house in front of them, the for-sale sign and the realtor inside setting cookies on the table. “Accidentally. Just snuck into enough houses on the market to steal stuff that the realtors caught on.”

“Macadamia.”

“Huh?”

“What are the odds those are Macadamia nut cookies.”

Crowley grinned. “Very small, open houses are always chocolate chip.”

“Yes, you would know, I suppose.”

“Feeling peckish, angel?”

“Oh, you know I am.”

“Alright. Whoever is right gets to pick what we do this morning.”

“Whoever is right about what?”

“Cookie type.”

Aziraphale laughed slightly. “Alright, if it’s Macadamia, we’ll find an estate sale. I could use a new lamp for the bookshop”

“Chocolate, we buy the house.”

“What?” Aziraphale nearly squawked. “Whatever for?”

Crowley shrugged, “For fun.”

“Move to Lower Tadfield for fun?”

“I didn’t say _move_. Just buy it. Come for birthdays then let it sit empty the other forty-some weekends a year. Let the neighborhood watch think it’s haunted.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, but Crowley, hips uneven and back bent was looking at the house. “Alright.”

“Oatmeal raisin,” Aziraphale whispered when the realtor left the room to grab fliers for them. “What now?”

“Either Estate sale _and_ buy the house, or neither,” Crowley whispered back. The realtor returned, and handed them the flier.

“How long has this house been on the market?” Aziraphale asked, grabbing the flier to look at the price listed on the bottom, as that seemed like a normal human thing to do.

“Only a few days. Owners decided to leave rather suddenly, so there’s a bit of maintenance that still needs to be taken care of, but they’re working with the inspector to solve some issues. However, it’s in very good condition—solid structure and good piping. Most of the problems can be fixed with a bit of TLC and paint.”

“How old is it?” Crowley asked.

“Almost eighty years,” the realtor responded. “Original crown molding and hardwood floors.”

“I do love hardwood,” Aziraphale smiled. “Alright if we take a look around?”

“Of course, be my guest!”

There were two bedrooms and bathrooms, the faucet in the kitchen leaked a couple of droplets every minute, the doors creaked and the windows stuck in the sills, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but find it charming. “A bit of a fixer-upper, isn’t it?”

“Sure. And time and money are things we two middle-aged men have to keep in mind.”

Aziraphale laughed, following Crowley up the stairs and into the little room where the roof sloped down on either side and they had to duck if they walked too close to either wall.

Aziraphale was about to make a comment about how silly the little room was, but how it might be perfect for the kids to play indoors when it got too cold outside, when Crowley interrupted with, “Library.”

The charm of the place absolutely doubled at that word and Aziraphale puffed up his chest a bit. “I suppose we need to see if we can find an estate sale.”

Crowley seemed not to understand that meant Aziraphale loved it—that he was saying _both, Crowley, both just so we can buy the house. Might as well have been chocolate chip_—as he followed up with, “If there aren’t any, then we head back to Jasmine Cottage and help make lunch.”

“Right,” Aziraphale said, feeling a bit disappointed as Crowley turned and walked out of the could-be-library without a second glance around, but followed none-the-less.

However, an hour spent walking around town revealed there to be no _garage_ sales, much less an _estate_ sale of the caliber Aziraphale was able to appreciate.

“Well, fair’s fair. No estate sale, no house,” Crowley said, setting his hand on Aziraphale’s back and nudging him along. “Let’s get back to the cottage, see if Newt needs any help with the cake.”

“Right,” Aziraphale said, with less cheer than he should’ve had after a nice morning around town.

At the Young’s house, Adam’s birthday party was nearly in full swing. The party was mostly just an extension of the previous night’s dinner party, with an addition of family. Arthur and Dierdre were setting food on the table in the backyard when Anathema and Newt stepped into the backyard, Aziraphale and Crowley just behind them.

“Dierdre,” Newt asked, tentatively. He knew how stressed mothers tended to get at birthday parties. “Where should I put the cake?”

“Oh, here. I can take that, thank you, Newt,” she said, looking away from the table, giving Arthur the opportunity to swipe a cracker from the platter. Dierdre smiled at Aziraphale and Crowley after she’d taken the cake from Newt. “How are you two getting on?” she asked.

She and Arthur had met the angel and demon on Dierdre’s birthday, when they had taken a day trip to London and Adam had run them into Aziraphale’s shop. Arthur very vaguely remembered Aziraphale and Crowley, as most people had at least a hazy recollection of what happened during Armageddon, but misremembered them as teachers from Adam’s primary school who had eloped and moved to the city (there had actually been a pair of teachers who’d eloped and moved to the city, and they lived not too far from Crowley’s flat, but they didn’t see any need to correct Arthur if them being teachers would explain their presence at Adam’s birthday party.)

“Quite well, thank you Dierdre,” Aziraphale responded, fixing his grip on the meter long box of Adam’s birthday present. “How did you like that book I sent you with when we last saw you?”

“Oh, I do like it! Haven’t had time to finish it, but I’m working through it as I find time. You can set the presents down right over on that table—Adam!” she shouted, “Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley are here!”

The Them rounded the corner into the back-garden from where they’d been sword fighting and grinned at the sight of the present tucked under Aziraphale’s arm and the one Crowley balanced on his shoulder. 

“We can help you with those,” Adam said, with just a tad too much innocence, holding out his hands to take the box from Aziraphale.

“That’s quite alright, my dear boy, we’ll put them—”

“Go on then,” Crowley interrupted, lowering the box he was holding and handing it off to Pepper, who was standing closest to him.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chastised, but before he’d even turned around, Crowley had slid the long box out from under Aziraphale’s arm and passed it to Adam.

“Careful with that.”

“_Crowley!_” Aziraphale hissed, then turned to Adam. “No funny business with that, Adam. Don’t drop it, straight to the table, go on.”

Crowley was smiling when he set his hand on Aziraphale’s back, “Go find yourself a seat, angel. I’ll bring you a something to drink in a minute.”

Aziraphale huffed, and shook his head. “You’re quite the devil sometimes, my dear. I’ll be very upset if he opens it when we’re not there.”

“Ah, he won’t, trust me.”

Once Aziraphale had huffed again and found himself a seat next to Adam’s sister to introduce himself, Crowley turned to Adam’s mom, who’d sent Arthur away for nearly ruining the cake.

“Anything I can help with, Dierdre?” he asked, as she finished arranging the cups in front of the lemonade and walked over to the grill to get the flame started up.

She was struggling with the pilot light as she said, “Oh, no. Thank you, Mr. Crowley, but you’re a guest. Please, take a seat, food will be ready soon.”

He reached around her with a lighter he’d miracled into his hand and leaned past her to light the pilot. “You sit down and take a breather—I’ll get the food going.” He steered her away from the grill with a hand on her arm as he took the tongs from her. “And call me Anthony.”

As Dierdre sat herself down with a glass of water and wondered why a school teacher would come to a party just to stage a coup for barbeque responsibility, Crowley watched Adam grab Aziraphale’s arm and pull him away from his sister, who was chatting with him about her engagement. Crowley smiled, then fixed his sunglasses and turned back to the grill to get to work.

“I didn’t mind hearing about her engagement, you know! It’s very exciting stuff. Have she and her fiancé moved in together?” Aziraphale asked as Adam led him to sit down on the little bench across the lawn from the rest of the party,

“Yeah, they did ages ago, why?”

“Well, that’s just a big step in a relationship! Good for her.” Aziraphale looked past Adam’s sister to Crowley

Adam followed his gaze. “What, you and Crowley don’t live together?”

“Oh no, he has his own flat. We spend much more time at the bookstore than there, though.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you lived together? I mean, you spend all your time together anyways.”

“Oh sure, but he likes his flat and his plants, and I couldn’t leave my shop.”

“You couldn’t leave the shop or the books? Cause books can be moved.”

Aziraphale paused and looked at Adam from the side. He was looking straight ahead. “I suppose they can be.”

“Do you just really like London? It sounds like you guys have been all over the world, so why settle down there? No room for gardens in the city. Not like here.”

“Adam,” Aziraphale began, but was interrupted as across the lawn, Crowley dropped a burger from the grill and growled out a couple of swears. “Crowley! Not around the kids!” Aziraphale hissed. He leaned back in his chair to address Adam’s comment, but he’d already slipped off and run across the lawn to either stop Dog from eating the meat he’d stolen from under Crowley’s feet or to give Dog the rest of his own food. Aziraphale sighed, furrowing his brow, and leaned back to watch as Crowley finish grilling.

Crowley had, completely without any demonic intervention, cooked dinner for the entire party, not burning so much as one patty. And it had taken him a while, but he did bring Aziraphale a drink when it was time for presents and he came to sit down beside him.

The presents from his family came first, of course, so they watched him pull a brand-new skateboard from the wrapping paper, as well as going back to school supplies which he quickly hid, but Aziraphale could hide his excitement when Adam finally made it to the presents from him and Crowley.

First was the box Crowley had walked in carrying. It was one Adam had to know the contents, since it was the same box Pepper, Wensley, and Brian had each received over the past year for their birthdays. Inside was a small hiking backpack filled with everything a kid would need for diving deeper into the woods. The compasses in each were especially nice—from the stash of old collector’s things that Aziraphale had in his attic.

That wasn’t all they’d gotten them though. Wensley had also gotten a dowsing rod (which had been a hit, as he spent hours trying to disprove their ability to find water, only to learn he was so good at finding things that the dowsing rod actually worked). Brian had gotten a brown leather jacket with patches on the shoulders, one had black wings and one that had white wings, and the jacket had plenty of room for more patches to be ironed on if he so desired (he did so desire, and his mom had ironed on several, including a patch from the London field trip he had mostly skipped). And Pepper had gotten a bicycle, with gears and everything—Crowley had even placed (dull) spikes on either side of the front wheel so she could trip the boys up if they got to close to her while she was trying to win a race.

_Adam’s_ second present was not something he was bound to predict.

He peeled back the tape at the top and looked inside. His eyes widened and Crowley grinned at him, so he reached inside, grabbed the hilt, and dropped the box. As the box fell to the ground, a long, silver sword was revealed. It was tarnished and dull, but it was a _sword_.

The Them had all had a chance to hold a real sword at the airbase except for Adam, but now he had his turn. It was hundreds of years old but kept in a condition most archivists could only dream of, and would probably be horrified to know it now rested in the hands of a twelve-year-old. But the smile on Adam’s face was, to Aziraphale, very much worth losing any of his archivist friends who’d had their eyes on that sword for ages.

“It’s safe for play fighting,” Aziraphale said, turning to Dierdre, who looked very much like she wanted to object. “Incredibly dull, wouldn’t cut through paper much less skin.”

“Are you sure?” Dierdre asked.

“Of course,” Crowley said.

“It takes having power in one’s hand before you can trust them never to abuse it.”

“If you can trust him with a sword, you can trust him with anything.”

Adam looked up with a sort of unbelieving look, and Aziraphale set his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, my dear boy.”

Later that night, after the party and back at Jasmine cottage, Aziraphale sat awake in the guest bed, with a book and a low light open but downturned in his lap. “Crowley, dear,” he asked quietly, in case Crowley had fallen asleep. He hadn’t yet. Anathema hadn’t begun to snore yet, but he was all too prepared for it to begin.

“Mmmh?” he asked into his pillow.

“How _would_ you feel about leaving London.”

Crowley was quiet for a moment, then sat up to look at him. “Leaving London permanently?”

“Doesn’t have to be permanent. It could be. But it could just be for a year, a decade. However long we like.”

“But why would you want to? You love Soho.”

“Well, I was talking with Adam and he was asking why we were in London if we liked gardens so much. And I thought, why are we in London? I have my bookshop of course, but I’ve been there for ages—I’ve never been in one place for so long. I don’t think I realized how much I missed not being in the city until—” Aziraphale paused, then glanced towards Crowley, meeting his yellow eyes—pupils slightly larger than usual in the darkened room. “Well I guess I hadn’t considered leaving until you suggested buying the house yesterday. And I thought, I’d have to get rid of some of my books, but we could make it work. And we’d have a garden, a huge backyard we could spend years fixing up.”

“You want to buy that cottage?”

“It doesn’t have to be the cottage, Crowley. We can go anywhere we want. You did like it though, didn’t you? You didn’t mean buying it entirely as a joke?”

Crowley leaned closer to him, hand on the other side of Aziraphale’s legs so he could get closer. He wasn’t blinking.

_“Fancy spending eternity watching that? You could literally climb every mountain, over and over and over and over and over and over and over. And over and over.”_ He’d said, drunk as all Hell, twelve years ago to the day. How did he want to spend his eternity?

Refusing to sell his books day after day while eating at nice restaurants and drinking expensive wine had been a nice way to spend the last century and a half, but maybe it was time to change that.

“You didn’t mean it as a joke, did you, love?”

“I didn’t.”

“You liked it?”

“I liked it.” His voice was strangely stringy, like he wasn’t sure of his footing anymore and was focusing more on regaining it than on anything else. He seemed to notice too because he leaned back just enough to give Aziraphale more breathing room and cleared his throat. “You want to move to Tadfield, hometown of the antichrist, with a demon?”

“Not just any antichrist,” Aziraphale said, thinking of the fondness rising in his chest when he saw Adam smiling with his friends, a child who’d chosen the world over absolute power. He raised his hand to Crowley’s cheek. “And not just any demon.”

Crowley’s wide-eyed stare finally broke and a grin split across his face. It wasn’t a moment before he had his hands balled in Aziraphale’s shirt and was pulling him in for a kiss, sliding into his lap to get closer. Aziraphale laughed slightly, but kissed him back, running his hands up into Crowley’s long hair.

“Let’s move. I kept the flier, I can call the agent right now, lock down the house. Let’s move, angel.” Crowley couldn’t pull back with Aziraphale’s hands as tight in his hair as they were, so he spoke right into Aziraphale’s ear.

“You can’t call her now, it’s past midnight!”

“We’ll walk over there tomorrow morning, then. First thing.” The earnestness in Crowley’s eyes had Aziraphale leaning forward to pull him into a kiss.

“First thing, then.”

Anathema let her head hit the dining table moments after collapsing into her chair. Newt set a cup of coffee in front of her, then slipped his hand under her hair, pulling it back out of her face and up into little bun with a clip. “Alright?” he asked.

“No,” she said into the table. “I know they don’t have to sleep. But did they have to stay up the whole night?”

Newt, fortunately given Anathema’s tendency to snore, could sleep through just about anything. But that had left Anathema covering her head with a pillow all night. It wasn’t that the angel and demon had been particularly loud—they were careful to whisper, but there was an excited buzz to their conversation—and more importantly, to their auras. Anathema was stuck with a second-hand mania that had kept her up all night.

The door to the guest bedroom creaked open and Anathema and Newt turned around to see Aziraphale and Crowley emerge into the hallway. Their auras had calmed down slightly, but there was still a giddy buzz to the air.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale called and Anathema tried her best not to glare. Not their fault, she told herself. They couldn’t control that their auras were tenfold as powerful as a human’s.

“Morning,” Newton replied. “Coffee or tea for either of you?”

“Nah, we’ve got somewhere to get,” Crowley said, bumping his glasses up his nose.

“Where are you headed?”

Crowley and Aziraphale shared a smile. “Meeting a realtor,” Aziraphale answered.

“What?” Anathema asked. “What for?”

“There’s a cottage,” Crowley said, grin widening.

“About a ten-minute walk if you cut through Hogback woods,” Aziraphale added.

“Terrible yard.”

“Lovely hardwood.”

“Room for a library.”

“You’re moving to Tadfield?” Anathema asked, interrupting their back-and-forth on prime real estate features, trying to calculate in her head if ten minutes as the bird travels would be enough distance between them to protect her from their—at times—overwhelming auras.

“Well, I’m not going to sell the bookshop just yet—London is so pretty in the spring. But yes.”

The mental math working out in her favor, she let out a breath of relief and smiled. “That’s wonderful. Adam will be so pleased.”

Crowley leaned to the left to look around Newt—who was currently trying to calculate in his head how a single couple could own two properties in London as well as a cottage in Tadfield (he couldn’t work out that mental math and decided he just shouldn’t think about it)—and saw the Them coming up the path. Adam had his sword strapped across his back and was carrying a cardboard box, and the rest of the Them were humming a strange processional verse. “Speak of the human,” Crowley said.

Rather than knock, the Them strode straight inside, Dog announcing their presence.

“What have you got there?” Crowley asked.

“House warming present,” Brian said and Adam, with a smile that spoke mischief and cunning, knelt down and, like he was presenting a war trophy to royalty, held up the cardboard box in front of Aziraphale. Laughing softly, Aziraphale opened the box, then went absolutely silent.

“Wensley is really good at finding things,” Pepper said as Aziraphale removed a bible from the box. It was incredibly rare, one printed with four extra verses. It was also one that had burned up in Aziraphale’s bookstore and had been replaced with _100 things for a boy to do_ when it was rebuilt.

“Actually, it wasn’t too hard. Found it when I went to an estate sale with my mum last week. It seemed like something you’d enjoy.”

“I do enjoy it. Thank you so much, Wensleydale,” Aziraphale said, only slightly misty eyed.

Then Adam cleaned his throat and looked pointedly at Crowley, who stepped forward to look into the box. A thin gold watch that looked eerily similar to one that Crowley had lost twelve years ago sat inside. “You find this one too, Wensleydale?” He asked, picking it up and sliding it back onto his wrist.

“I did,” Adam claimed, standing up and setting aside the empty box. “My mom found it at the convent the day after I was born. The battery died, so she was going to throw it out, but I thought it looked like something you would wear.”

Crowley grinned and held out his arms, welcoming Adam to come up and hug him. “Thank you, Adam. Wensley, Pepper, Brian—very thoughtful of you all. Can’t say I approve of being such kind kids. You should really be getting up to more mischief these days.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you. A very nice _housewarming_ gift.” He was still holding the bible close.

“And we haven’t even a house to warm yet,” Crowley added.

Adam’s face fell slightly. “You haven’t?” he asked. He’d been so sure that seeing Anathema and Newt’s lawn the week Wensley mowed, and the state of the garden, and the house just downwind of Adam’s house, his sneaky conversations with the two of them, and every little detail about Tadfield that Adam loved would’ve persuaded them into buying the house. If that hadn’t worked, he could probably never get them out of London. He could never convince the angel and demon, the ones who’d trusted him and always would trust him with a power he didn’t yet trust himself with, down to the small village of Tadfield.

“Aziraphale wouldn’t let me phone the realtor last night. We’re headed over there now.”

Adam’s grin returned and he looked between the both of them. “Can I come along?”

There were little squares of testing colors painted on every wall of the house. Boxes were stacked in the middle of the rooms, and the windows were open from Crowley’s time sanding down the sides so they’d close easier, and a nice breeze filled the air. Two arm chairs were sat in front of the fireplace, and one had been occupied for close to a half hour.

Aziraphale, upon finishing installing the bookshelves upstairs, returned to the ground floor to collapse into the empty armchair.

“What do you think?” Crowley asked, pointing at the swatches of paint on the wall they faced. “They all look the same to me.”

“Which one is that?” Aziraphale asked, pointing to the swatch farthest to the left.

“Gothic Amethyst. Middle is Lighthearted Rose, and right is High Society.”

Aziraphale hummed, regarding the wall. When he dropped his hand from pointing and it fell between their two chairs, his fingers brushed Crowley’s. “Gothic Amethyst might be a little too dark for the whole room. Just an accent wall, or the trim maybe.” He took Crowley’s hand in his. “I think I like Lighthearted Rose.”

“Mmh. Me too,” Crowley said, but really he had no preference. He just didn’t think he could bring himself to disagree with Aziraphale over paint colors when their fingers were entwined, hands held between them as they sat in the chairs that they’d picked from a catalog together as the paperwork for the house finalized and they still sat on the couch in the bookshop. “I’ll get the paint shop to mix us enough for the room.”

Aziraphale looked at him, cheek resting on his own shoulder, and squeezed his hand. “It’ll look just wonderful, darling. The cottage of a dream.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I KNOW they’re called buiscuits and not cookies but I refuse to write buscuits when they mean cookies. Firstly, its wrong… secondly, I can’t spell it :/  
Also I can’t remember exactly how old Adam’s sister was (my friend stole my copy of the book) but I think she was college age-ish.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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